by K T Findlay
He looked at her in astonishment. He could see she really was under the influence. A massive shot of gin on a small bowl of cornflakes, and bang!
Suddenly she slumped into the chair by the window, put her glass on the table and began to cry. Slowly at first, and then deep profound sobs tore at her throat as the emotion of the past two years flooded back through her body. Unconsciously, she began to hug herself as she had in the garden the day she met Sally, and rocked slowly back and forth.
Tony sat silently in his chair, not quite knowing what to do. Susan, who’d just arrived, walked silently past him, knelt down and held Emma in her arms until the sobs abated.
In the car on the way back to the station, Tony said. ‘Well, it was a good performance from both of them by the sound of it, but I’m not convinced. They’ve still got more motive than anyone else.’
Sally sat quiet in the passenger seat for a moment. ‘Unless you factor in Terry Walker. If he’s in the mix, then all bets are off.’
Tony braked unnecessarily hard for a corner, taking out his annoyance on the car, and Susan. ‘Why did the silly woman burst into tears like that?’
Susan stared straight ahead through the windscreen. ‘Because she suddenly realised that Harland’s death hadn’t really made the pain go away after all. For a few moments after you told her about his death, she thought it had all balanced out and she could be happy again. But it didn’t last, and when the pain came back it caught her completely by surprise.’
Tony shook his head. ‘You’re a complicated species.’
◆◆◆
James picked up his binoculars and pointed them across the valley. She’s having a coffee I think. It’s not quite time for the next painting.’
Freddy began the washing up. ‘An interesting conversation next door I thought.’
‘What was interesting about it?’ asked James. ‘We didn’t learn anything new.’
Freddy rinsed a cup under the tap. ‘Oh I think we did. We learned just how emotionally involved Emma still is in all of this. It’s no wonder Sally tries to keep her well out of things when she’s hunting.’
James flicked his eyebrows thoughtfully. ‘She does, doesn’t she. So what’s Emma actually for? Why is Sally using her? She hasn’t helped with the hunts, or disposing of the bodies, or providing Sally with an alibi. What’s Sally getting out of it?’
Freddy clattered the cutlery around the bottom of the sink. ‘A false trail perhaps? Emma Nixon is about the only woman on the planet with more reason than Sally Nixon to kill those three particular men. Throw a strong enough spotlight on her and Sally fades into the background.’
James grunted. ‘Well that’s all going to come to a crashing halt when she takes out Dick Harland! Which reminds me, we still need to figure out how to get in there when she does it.’
◆◆◆
It wasn’t until late in the evening that the autopsy was completed and Felicity was ready to deliver her summing up to a somewhat green around the gills Peregrin.
‘Well, Bob Harland died of drink.’ Felicity joked. ‘And he really did too.’
She pointed to the dead man’s throat.
‘Our now usual ring of glue, and drink up his neck and head to just above his nose and ears. Oh incidentally, we’ve had the tests back, and I was right that the thick line is from medical tape. The narrow line seems to be from door seal tape, the stuff you run up the side of a door to stop drafts.’
Peregrin looked thoughtful. ‘Why do that do you think?’
‘I can’t be sure of course, but I suspect the killer used the door seal to support whatever they were using to hold the liquid. The neck isn’t a perfect circle, and door seal tape might have filled in the gaps enough for the medical tape to effect a good enough seal. But that’s a guess, nothing more.’ Felicity offered.
Peregrin cocked his head in appreciation. ‘Sounds plausible at least. Okay, carry on.’
‘As I said, the drink was in the usual place, above the line of glue, to just above his nostrils. There’s the odd splash above that, as there was for Holmes, but inside him, that’s different this time. His stomach was absolutely full to bursting with a dark beer, which I’m assuming is Guinness. It could be another dark beer, but let’s call it Guinness for now.’
‘So the man drank as much as he possibly could?’ asked Peregrin.
Felicity nodded. ‘I’d say he swallowed until he simply couldn’t hold another drop, but the drink kept on being added. However, it wasn’t as quick as it might seem.’
‘Quick’ Peregrin snapped. ‘It doesn’t sound quick to me!’
‘Oh, it gets worse I think.’ said Felicity. ‘His nasal membranes, and those in his throat and windpipe are quite inflamed. I think they had quite a period of irritation before he finally drowned. I suspect he took in tiny bits at a time into his lungs, not a huge dollop in one hit like the other two. This poor bugger had it drawn out as long as possible. And his lungs really are full. He drowned. He didn’t choke.’
Peregrin shook his head. ‘Sounds terrifying.’
‘I’ve seen a lot worse ways for people to die.’ said Felicity quietly. ‘This would have been very, very frightening for sure, but not exactly painful, certainly not agonising.’
Peregrin looked at her in silence for a moment. ‘At the very least it was personal. All three of these guys died in drink, and they had two drink driving cases in common, so it’s got to be something to do with either Emma Nixon or Sally.’
Felicity shook her head. ‘Not necessarily. If you find Terry Walker at the bottom of a cliff, then it becomes a punishment fitting the crime scenario, and then it wouldn’t necessarily point to either of them. It becomes someone enraged with people getting off scot free for crimes they committed, as the killer sees it anyway. I think at the very least you have to retain an open mind while Emma and Sally have such good alibis.’
Peregrin nodded begrudgingly. ‘Perhaps, but I think I’m going to keep a very close eye on our Sally from now on. Okay, what else have you got?’
Felicity brandished her customary plastic bag. ‘Our signature red pubic hair, again just the one, jammed in between his teeth. These now seem to me to be staged, so it’s either a signature, or it’s a red herring. I can’t tell which. But this lad was definitely excited. There are traces of pre-ejaculate fluid on his tummy below his belly button, and on his right thigh. He dresses to the right, so I am interpreting this as him being sufficiently aroused to deposit it on his stomach, and then losing that arousal to droop onto the thigh.’
‘How do you know he didn’t simply climax?’ asked Peregrin.
‘It doesn’t have the right make up for a full ejaculation, and there are only these two relatively small locations. There’s no other place where a droplet landed.’
She went on. ‘There are tiny traces of hairy string around his waist and in his pubic hair. There are a lot fewer than the other two had, but that’s because he was naked. Cloth hangs onto fibres a lot better than skin. There are no traces of French chalk this time though. Perhaps it’s all worn off, or the killer washed the rubber after they killed Thomlinson.’
‘I can’t tell if he had a pee during his ordeal, but he certainly did after he was dumped. There was a good deal of urine soaked into the ground under his body.’
‘Good thing he wasn’t wearing his clothes then!’ joked Peregrin. Then he had a thought. ‘How did he get out of his clothes?’
‘Without being able to look at them, it’s hard to say, but there are no signs on his body of them being forcibly removed. There are however significant bruises on his ankles and wrists this time. I’d say there was some kind of cloth involved that wasn’t used on the other two. It’s twisted, and that’s caused bruises and abrasions different to the other two.’
‘I think the last point to make is the blood alcohol level. It was relatively low given the huge volume he had inside him. I know beer isn’t as strong as spirits, but it implies that this session didn’t go on for hours
like Thomlinson’s. I think it was over and done with in well under an hour, at least the drink part was.’
‘Well I suppose that’s something the poor bugger can be thankful for.’ muttered Peregrin.
Felicity raised a finger. ‘There’s one more thing I want to tell you before you leave. It’s about Thomlinson. We know how the killer managed to entrap him.’
‘And?’ he asked.
‘Rohypnol. Definite traces in both his urine and his blood. Indications are that it was administered within twenty four hours of his death.’
When he walked out of the morgue, Peregrin was regretting some of his open conversations when Sally had been around, and so was highly motivated to make some kind of progress. He went back to his desk and tried to phone Selina again, but once more got no reply.
‘Can you find an address for this number?’ he asked one of the researchers.
‘Absolutely. We’ve got this lovely new system. Let me try and I’ll get back to you.’ said the young lad, pleased to be able to demonstrate his new toy.
Half an hour later he was back. ‘Here you are sir.’
Peregrin looked at it in surprise. ‘But this isn’t in Ipington?’
‘No sir. It’s just outside of Wesser Bech.’
‘Well I’ll be jiggered.’ said Peregrin.
21 Time to go
Somewhat to her regret, Sally came to the conclusion that her Hellenic days were over. Now that Peregrin was aware of Selina's existence, it would be far too risky to continue the deception.
She was sad about not being able to say goodbye, and even sadder about the storm which was about to break over Helen. In fact she felt really bad about that. She should have thought it through more carefully and not been so self indulgent.
On the bright side, she would be able to stop this wretched business of having to paint the sea every two hours. Boredom had set in quite some time ago, and she could justify not doing the full four weeks because nobody in their right mind would have any interest in the work. She could argue, should anybody ask, that two weeks was enough for anyone!
However, she didn't feel she could quit immediately. For her to stop her seascapes on the very day Selina failed to show, might cause people like Peregrin to draw unfortunate conclusions.
So with some reluctance, she picked up her brush and began the day's boards.
◆◆◆
Freddy looked up from the telescope. ‘That’s odd. She’s settling down to paint. She should be dressed in her Blondie gear and on her way over here to Miss Helen’s. I wonder what’s up?’
James looked up from his book. ‘Maybe she’s sick?’
Freddy zoomed in as close as he could on Sally’s head. ‘She looks okay. No tissues or sneezing, no rubbing any sore parts.’
‘Well if she’s decided to stay home for the day, that puts paid to any chance of breaking in. Looks like another day at the eyepiece. Fancy another cup?' asked James.
◆◆◆
Helen of course, was been wondering where on earth Selina was. It wasn’t like her to be late. The girl had been on time or early, every single day since they’d met. There had been no answer when she’d phoned to check, but then if Selina was already on her way, there wouldn’t be, would there?
She waited as long as she could at the house, but when 9 AM rolled around she had to leave for the studio. There were three sessions lined up that day, all of them involving Selina, so Helen had to try and phone the clients to tell them of the unexpected change, in case any of them wanted to cancel.
After sorting that out, and reworking the 10 AM session, she found herself with a few minutes to spare and decided to ring Peregrin.
‘I’m afraid he’s out at the moment, can I take a message?’ asked the constable who’d picked up the phone.
‘Yes please. Can you tell him Helen called, and could he call me back either between noon and 1 PM, or between 2:30 and 3:30 PM?’
‘Consider it done.’ replied the man in the cheerful tone that Helen associated with a fool who never delivers on his promises. On this occasion however, she was wrong.
◆◆◆
Peregrin drove slowly down Elbow Lane towards The Pines. It was an idyllic setting, a twisting avenue of beautiful trees, like sculptures at this time of year, framing beautifully kept fences and fields. Whoever owned this place had both money and a liking for things being done properly.
The Rover’s tyres left the tar seal and scrunched into the thick layer of stones on the gravel driveway. A man popped his head and shoulders up from behind a low hedge in response to the sudden noise and watched Peregrin drive past on his way to the main house.
Peregrin was knocking on the front door by the time the man had worked his way clear of the shrubbery and caught him up. The detective spun on his heels as he heard the man’s feet crunching across the gravel in front of the stand alone garage.
‘Can I help you sir?’ the man asked.
Peregrin already had his ID in his hand, and quickly introduced himself.
‘I’m Tom Phipps sir.’ the man replied. ‘I look after the grounds. Mr and Mrs Prendergast aren’t here at present but I can take a message if you like?’
Peregrin nodded. ‘That’s probably a good idea. When are they likely to be back?’ he asked.
‘Oh not for months yet sir. They’re having a year in Italy. But I can contact them if it’s urgent though.’
Peregrin’s eyebrows rose. ‘That might be a good idea Tom. We have a suspect who appears to have given the Prendergast’s phone number as her own over the past few months. It may well be that she did that because she knew there wouldn’t be anyone here to answer the calls.’
It was Tom’s turn for an eyebrow rise. ‘That’s a worry! My wife Luce and I are responsible while they’re gone. Luce checks and cleans the inside of the house and I do the grounds and exteriors. Everything seems to be in order. We haven’t noticed any prowlers or anything like that.’
Peregrin stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘So your wife would know if anything was missing inside the home, and you’d be aware of anything untoward outside. What about the outbuildings?’
Tom pointed to the cottage by the entrance. ‘Luce and I live over there, so we hear anyone driving in. The shed next to it is ours. There’s a barn for hay etc. at the end of the north east paddock, which has a tack room with the saddles and all in it. I check that most days and it all seems right and proper. And that’s it.’
‘How about the double garage here.’ asked Peregrin, indicating the doors next to Tom.
‘The only thing in there is Mrs Prendergast’s Mini, which she mainly uses for dropping stuff around the farm. It’s all topped up, and there’s a trickle charger on the battery so I don’t need to check on it regular like.’
Peregrin peered at him in astonishment. ‘She uses a Mini to drop stuff around the farm?! That’s not very practical is it?’
Tom rubbed the side of his nose conspiratorially. ‘It’s not exactly an ordinary Mini van sir. I made some modifications to it so Mrs Prendergast could drop bales of hay out the back while it’s on the move. I finished it the day before they left for Italy. Mrs Prendergast is really looking forward to using her when she gets back!’ he beamed with pride.
‘Would it be alright if I had a look at this wonderful creation of yours Tom?’ asked Peregrin, with a strong feeling that all he was going to see would be an empty space.
‘Of course sir. I’ll just fetch the keys from the house.’
While he was gone, Peregrin took the opportunity to look around the outside of the main house. It was well maintained, with no sign of interference on any of the doors or windows. And besides, Mrs Phipps was in and out pretty regularly, so he wasn’t really expecting to see any signs of a break in.
‘Here we are sir.’ said Tom, as he placed the key into the T bar lock.
The door swung up with a clang, revealing exactly what Peregrin had been expecting.
‘Well I’ll be–’ grunted the old man
. ‘Now what do you know about that?’
Tom began to step into the garage, but Peregrin caught him by the arm.
‘I’d really rather you didn’t Tom. I’d like our forensics people to crawl over this place. If it’s the car I think it is, it’s not just a stolen vehicle. It’s been used in a number of very serious crimes. Can you describe it to me?’
Tom was still shaking his head in disbelief. ‘But when did it go?!’
Peregrin gave him a hint of a smile. ‘If you haven’t been in here since they left for Italy, then any time between then and now. But I’d wager it was soon after they left. You were going to describe the Mini for me.’
‘Oh yes sir. It’s a Mini van, British Racing Green with white stripes on the bonnet. It looks like a Mini Cooper, but it isn’t really. It looks normal on the outside, but it has a tilting floor in the back, so she can dump the hay without getting out of the car. There’s a lever she can pull from the driver’s seat to open the rear door, and there’s a pair of electric motors that tilt the floor up and down. The button for that’s in the driver’s space as well. All me own work. I was quite proud of it I can tell you. Damned annoyed it’s gone!’
‘Well, gone it is I’m afraid Mr Phipps. We’ll do our best to get it back for you, but in the meantime, if you could tell your wife that a team of officers will be here very soon and that it would be good if she stayed away from the garage until they’ve finished their work, I’d be most appreciative.’
‘I’ll go and tell her now sir. She’s making us a lovely steak and kidney pudding for dinner, up to her armpits in flour and butter, otherwise I’m sure she’d have been out here having a chat.’ said Tom.
Peregrin watched him go, and then radioed in to the MIR, passing on the Mini’s details, and asking for the forensic team to come out.
He stood guard until they arrived, and then left them to it so he could explore the property’s perimeter. He satisfied himself that there really was only the one way in or out for wheeled vehicles and that was past Tom and Luce's house. There were numerous places on the river path from which the house could be observed, but anybody approaching it would be doing so over open ground and be easily seen themselves.